Page 2 of The Freshman

The voice drawled the word, dragged itout longer than necessary. Alfie didn’t recognize the voice anddidn’t care who it belonged to. He knew who it wasn’t. It wasn’this boss, or his ranking officer, Ryan. They were tucked in bed,probably together. Alfie huffed and shuffled his shoulders againstthe bars.

“Freshman,” he muttered.“Well, it’s a new one, I’ll give you that, but I’m not afreshman.”

“You should be. Youshouldn’t be in a place like this, surrounded by the scum of theearth. You should be at university, your first year. Think of allthose experiences you’re missing, all those firsts if you haven’talready experienced them.”

There was amusement lacing the man’swords, and Alfie was reminded of the other nickname the stafffavored. He spun around fast, puffed his chest out and hardened hisgreen eyes.

“I’m not avirgin.”

The air rushed from his chest at thesight of the man. He wasn’t sporting a white, long-sleeve shirt andblack tie, but a tight grey t-shirt that barely veiled his muscularchest. His eyes were dark, by the dull light Alfie could tell theywere blue, but the blue of the deepest ocean. A suffocating part ofthe ocean that squeezed the air from your chest until you could donothing but sink.

“That’s a bitdisappointing.”

The hypnotic eyes didn’t blink, theydrew Alfie in and challenged him not to blink either. Bristlescovered the man’s jaw, merging into his sideburns, and the hair onhis head was light brown, in daylight it might’ve been blond. Hesmiled smugly, and Alfie knew he’d be caught admiring his looks andphysique.

He shook his head, then stuttered.“Wh-what is?”

Alfie’s conversation skills had fledhim, and he forgot what they had said to each other.

The prisoner cocked his head. “Youbeing a virgin … I’m disappointed you’re not.”

Alfie shook his head and cleared histhroat. “Watch what you say.”

He flicked his chin out to theofficers, Ian and Keith, chatting to Henry in the corner, obliviousto the prisoner leaving their side. The prisoner leaned back,watched the officers for a few tense seconds, then turned hisattention back to Alfie.

His shoulders were angled forward, theusual look for a man who had his hands cuffed at his back. Thesolid metal gate stood between them, and the prisoner stood a fewinches from it. He couldn’t get to Alfie, but he grinned like hecould.

Alfie didn’t want to give an inch,bow, or blink first. He had to show no fear, even though the giantin front of him was more than capable of crushing his head with ahand or decapitating him with a skilled kick.

The prisoner rubbed his lips togetherwith a hum. “I don’t have to say anything, only have tolook.”

Alfie frowned and wobbled his head inconfusion.

Then the prisoner flashed his eyesdown, roamed from Alfie’s feet right up to the ruffled hair on hishead.

Alfie resisted the urge to shuffle atthe attention, but he couldn’t stop heat glowing in his cheeks. Theprisoner’s eyes metaphorically tore the clothes from his flesh, andleft him cold, fighting the need to shiver.

A toothy smile spread the man’s lips,and his eyes crinkled. He looked older, but not in a bad way. Thewrinkles that lined his eyes, and cut through his brow, matured himand made him look handsome.

“See, only a look, andit’s a fine look. I like what I see. I like it a lot,” hewhispered.

“I said to watch yourtongue.”

The prisoner closed his eyes andsucked his bottom lip as if savoring a taste. “Watch and tongue inthe same sentence. That’s a dirty tease, Freshman. All I’m gonnaimagine later is—"

“Last warning.” Alfiesnapped.

The prisoner smiled, then nodded.“Okay, Freshman. I don’t wanna end on bad terms. I might even treatyou to breakfast in the morning. I usually come down aboutseven.”

Alfie shook his head. “I won’t be herefor your breakfast, thanks for the offer.”

The prisoner bunched his lipstogether, and lines of amusement appeared around his eyes. “Youhurt my feelings, use me like that and run out in the morning.That’s harsh, Freshman. Most unexpected for a man with a prettyface like yours.”

Alfie snorted. “There goes your lastchance.”

He knocked his radio to the gate, andthe metallic ping got the attention of the chatting officers. Theylooked up and raised their eyebrows in unison. If Alfie wasn’tannoyed it would’ve looked funny. A progression of age throughtheir eyebrows. The thirty-year-old Ian, had a bushy black set, theman beside him, Keith had streaks of grey through his, and thenthere was Henry, white and sparse on his brow all the way to hisears.

“What is it, fish?” Henryshouted.

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